


True Tenderness

by QueenoftheHobbits



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: F/M, Gen, poetry inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:07:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheHobbits/pseuds/QueenoftheHobbits
Summary: Somewhat inspired by a poem of the same name by Anna Akhmatova.His smile in return is soft and tender and you wonder if this is what budding love feels like, acts like.Gently wrapping jackets around another’s shoulders. Soft smiles, tender eyes. The careful brushing of fingers tips against each other. You wonder if this is what it feels like to fall a little bit in love with another. To want to see that smile every day, but to feel the ache knowing that his job is one which puts him in danger.





	True Tenderness

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I tried to write out his accent, mostly by writing how my fake Scottish accent sounds, if you think its better when I write without the accent then let me know on this poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/15872052
> 
> One again using Jack as Collins’ first name
> 
> My tumblr is imaginesofeveryfandom

“It’s getting late...” You’re reluctant to mention it. You’ve had a wonderful night with Jack Collins. A wonderful night. A night of dancing and laughing. He has made you feel extremely at ease and extremely happy and it is a hard thing to suggest that the night should end. But, it is getting late and it’s about time you got back home. 

“I’ll walk ye home.” His blue eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, it somehow softens his face, makes him look even younger than he is. He has a rather beautiful smile. 

You take the offered arm and let him lead you from the dance hall and into the street. It’s rather chilly out, rain had fallen some time in the evening, the pavement slick and wet, the air smelt like rain. You shiver at the cold and draw yourself tighter to him.

He gently pulls your arm from his and begins to unbutton his uniform jacket, before shrugging it off his shoulders and draping it over your cold ones. You tug the jacket tighter around your shoulders and smile up at him, thankful for the warm jacket. His smile in return is soft and tender and you wonder if this is what budding love feels like, acts like.

Gently wrapping jackets around another’s shoulders. Soft smiles, tender eyes. The careful brushing of fingers tips against each other. You wonder if this is what it feels like to fall a little bit in love with another. To want to see that smile every day, but to feel the ache knowing that his job is one which puts him in danger. 

“Thank you.”

“Ya got nothin’ ta thank me for.” You let his accent wash over you, let the timber of his voice ease you as the two of you walk side by side down the wet street. If this is what falling in love feels like then you don’t mind. You don’t mind one bit. 

You pass rubble, buildings destroyed by the bombings and frown before shaking the thoughts away. You’ve had a lovely night with Jack and you refuse to dwell on the dangers of life in war, not when your feet ache in a good sort of way, and you can still feel the smile that was ever present on your face that evening, etched into your muscles. Your fingers slip between his, nonetheless, seeking subtle comfort, from his own and each step brings you nearer to him, shoulders brushing against each other, fingers intertwined. 

“When does your leave end?”

“Sunday, I have ta report back by Monday, 8 on the dot.”  Its not very long, not very long at all. But it’ll do. Any time is more time than some get and after he reports back there’s always letters. The staple of life, of the war. 

“Well, you’ll have to make the most of it then.” You stop at your door, pulling away from him slowly. 

“Is it...Is it too much ta ask if you’d spent the time with me?” He reaches out for your hands with his own again, drawing you back into the circle of personal space that you’d original left upon reaching your door. You’re rather glad. 

“No, not at all. Is it too much to ask to write to you...after leave is over?” You don’t want him to just disappear. To never see him again. He has made you smile more than anyone, made you laugh loud and unashamedly. Jack Collins is a man you know is one of a kind and you’d rather not lose contact, even if staying in contact hurts you more in the long run. 

“Not at all.” 

“Tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow.” The two of you stand there staring at each other, smiling at each other few a few moments. It isn’t uncomfortable like you imagine it could be, rather its rather nice, simply memorising his features in that moment.

You reach forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek briefly, “Goodnight.” His cheeks are flushing red as you move up the steps to your front door. Brightly blushing by the time your key is twisting in the lock. You find you would like to see that rosy colour again. 


End file.
